A/N: Soo, my momma says to take good advice when it's given to you. I'm going to go ahead and character-label this story: it's Lucas/Peyton since it revolves around their situations and is told filtered through their POV's. Thanks to Bendecida82 for the gentle push to do so! :)

As always, I don't own OTH or it's characters, only the journey I choose to take them on. As well as any and all mistakes, since it's unbeta'd.

Chapter title comes from a lyric in the song "Breakeven" by The Script.

Enjoy!

Ch. 4: 'Cause I Got Time While She Got Freedom

Peyton sighs, curled up in one of the chairs by her other self. She's still a little dazed by her afternoon and if she's honest, a little disappointed, too. After Brooke had left, Nathan had come to speak with her, followed by Haley. Of course, she had spent their visits trying—and failing—to get their attention. Surprisingly, she came closest to being noticed by Nathan.

Maybe because she had dated him for a while? Or was it a Scott thing? Anyway...

He had been talking to her, recounting a story from their early days as a couple that had sent her into a laughing fit. One that abruptly calmed when Nathan had looked weirdly at the spot she was sitting, before shaking whatever feeling he had away.

She had doubled her efforts with him, only resulting in one or two more moments that he brushed away as imagination. Her lack of success with him left her so frustrated she barely listened to whatever Haley had said during her visit. The only thing she honestly remembered about Haley was that she never noticed her, either.

Sitting there, staring at herself, she decides to simply blame everything on Lucas. It makes her feel a little better. It's confusing and odd that he'd be the one person who knows what's going on, since in the grand scheme of things, they've only known each other about a year. Yet he has absolutely no trouble interacting with her while those who have spent years being in her life, can't. Plus, she just knows Lucas is behind the lets-visit-Peyton-parade of the day. This gives her a perfectly valid reason to blame him for her feelings of disappointment right now.

Standing, she moves over to the Peyton lying on the bed. It worries her that she's starting to think of them as separate people now, even as she studies her own unconscious body.

"Damn it!" Beyond frustrated, she jerks her hand through her hair and yells, "Just wake the hell up already, Peyton Elizabeth!"

Of course, nothing happens. Deflating, she tilts her head back and groans. Letting her head fall forward again, she studies her other self's serene expression. Maybe that Peyton likes the serenity of a coma; her life certainly hasn't been the easiest lately.

As soon as that thought enters her mind, Peyton literally shakes it right out of her head again. It doesn't make sense. There aren't two different Peyton's with two separate opinions. There's just her…and she wants to wake up. She does. It terrifies her that it sounds like she's trying to convince herself of that.

She closes her eyes and fists her hands together, pressing them against her forehead as she sinks down into the chair again. Feeling like a little girl at the moment, she gives a half laugh, half sigh, "Mom, if you're listening, I could use some advice right about now."

Peyton isn't expecting anything to happen, so she's shocked when she falls flat on her ass and hits hard ground. Opening her eyes, she freezes. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!" It's a mantra that escapes as a whimper, her eyes glued to the headstone in front of her. Anna Rebecca Sawyer. Her mom.

Her mind's blank as she stares straight ahead. She only snaps into focus when a stray thought filters in: she's away from her hospital room. Peyton had no idea that could even happen, much less what it means, what could happen, or how it could have an effect on her coma. It's a terrifying prospect.

Freaking out, she scrambles to her feet and glances around wildly. "What do I do?"

It doesn't take much thought for her to close her eyes again and focus on her 'other' self. That usually works in the movies.

"…to say goodnight, sweetheart. I'll be back in the morning."

Relief floods over her at the sound of her dad's voice and the sight of him leaning down to brush a kiss on 'her' forehead. Ha. Movies are good for something. So there, Lucas.

She sinks back into the chair and watches her dad leave. She's still a little shaky from what just happened, not sure what to make of it. Not sure if she wants to do that again; what if leaving causes permanent problems, like actual death? So far, it seems like there weren't any complications while she was away, but she figures she was only gone for a minute or so. Not long enough for damage to ensue, thank goodness.

Peyton takes the moments of silence that follow her dad's exit to just clear her mind. Everything from today is bombarding her, muddying her emotions and spinning her mind in circles. Things aren't clear at all. Nothing is making sense. Before this morning, even with her…disconnection, she'd been relatively clear-headed. Peyton's in a coma. Peyton wants to wake up. No one knows that all of her is not lying in the hospital bed. Simple as that.

Then, not so simple, as Lucas came in and saw the disconnection. As Brooke cried over her, as her dad begged, as Nathan tried to laugh and ignore feeling her in the room, as Haley fumbled through being positive. As she herself realized it's really not as simple as she had thought. As she faced the fact that maybe a tiny part of her was relieved to be out of commission and away from life's recent habit of kicking her down.

A resounding click breaks her ruminations and has her head turning to the door in time to see Lucas slipping in.

"Hey." He sends her a quick smile, turning to lock the door. "The nurses don't have to check on you anytime soon, right?"

"Right." She nods, slightly confused. "But, there's no visiting hours, so…"

He smiles sheepishly, taking the chair next to her. "I know. Not that hard to sneak in actually, which is probably not a good sign. I wanted to talk to you, without the risk of anyone coming in."

"Don't want people to see you talking to air?" She jokes.

"Yeah," he grins at her, "I don't really want a padded room right now, thanks."

She grins back before biting her lip and fidgeting with her fingers. She probably shouldn't mention her earlier scare; she should think about it a little more before talking about it. She sneaks a quick peek at him. His eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head at her, silently asking.

Peyton sighs. Why can't she not tell this guy things? Especially the crazy stuff. "Sooo, I had an interesting evening."

Worry fills his eyes, "What happened?"

"I kind of...left." She shrugs when his eyes widen. "I was talking to myself, then closed my eyes and wanted my mom." A muted scoff leaves her mouth. "And then I was there."

"At the cemetery?" He clarifies, stunned expression covering his face.

"Yeah. I freaked and panicked, then tried a movie trick. Which worked, by the way." A ghost of smugness layers her tone with the last sentence.

He nods absently, apparently not as amused this go around. "Did anything happen? I mean, with your coma?"

"Unh uh. Everything seemed fine when I popped back in. But I was only gone a minute."

She watches him stand and start pacing in a slow circle. Peyton can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. If she's following his train of thought correctly, she figures she'll be heading out for another adventure in the near future. The boy was always all for her taking risks, even though he himself could be overly cautious. She fleetingly wonders why, but ceases thinking about it when Lucas turns to her.

"So, okay. We know you can leave, but we don't know any more than that. Do you wanna try again? Maybe for slightly longer than a minute this time? But not too long, either. Probably around ten minutes or something?"

Wow, she's good. Or he's just easy to read. Smirking, she settles into her chair. "Where should I go?"

"Well, the cemetery is possible since we know you can go there. Or try something new...like maybe your house or something."

"I do miss my own bed." She muses. "Okay."

Closing her eyes, she brings her sanctuary to mind. Nothing feels different and she opens her eyes to see Lucas watching her. They both kind of frown at each other.

"Did you do anything?"

"Yeah. I wanted to go to my room, but decided 'hey, I'm already here'. Way to go, me." He ignores the sarcasm that practically drips off every word and slumps into the chair next to her, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Did you really let yourself want it, Peyton?"

"What?" She has no idea what he means by that, and with the day she's had, her fuse is too short to play word games with him. He usually trips her up anyway, forcing her to look deeper into herself than she wants to in order to elicit startling revelations. This is damn well not going to be one of those times if she has her way.

Lucas rolls his eyes at her mutinous expression. "I'm guessing you really wanted your mom earlier. So you went there. Then you freaked out about being away from your...body, so you came back. Maybe you're scared to leave again, so you stayed."

Peyton really hates when he does that. He takes something that sounds so simple, but says it in a way that makes her examine the underlying emotions. Damn him, for making it one of those times. No. She didn't let herself have it, because she's worried about what being away from her body could do. Despite her earlier suspicions regarding being too afraid to wake from her coma, she knows she doesn't want to actually die. She likes being alive. If something were to seriously happen while she's gone, would she be aware of it before it's too late? Or would she come back to find herself gone? That's assuming she could return to her room at all, because it's just as possible she could simply fade away mid-step, mid-word.

Her silence seems to be enough of an answer for Lucas, because he shifts closer to the hospital bed and takes hold of 'her' hand. She smiles to herself as the sensation echos around her own hand.

"I'll hold your hand if you want me to. I promise, I won't leave. And I'll be here to make sure something doesn't happen."

"But what if it does?" The thread of fear in the question disquiets her, but she can't help it.

Lucas squeezes her hand gently. "Then we deal with it."

Words said so simply, she couldn't help but believe them. With a deep fortifying breath, Peyton stands, closes her eyes, and really lets herself want something; something she'd kind of wanted all day.

She still feels Lucas' hand enfolding hers, still has solid ground underneath her feet, but there's the sound of wind rustling through leaves, crickets in the distance. The silence here feels more profound. Or maybe that's just her. Brooke told her once, that it was weird to feel at ease surrounded by hundreds of dead people. At the time, Peyton had rolled her eyes and changed the topic to something more lighthearted, regarding her best friend's new skirt. But she hadn't thought of it that way; those markers stood for people who were—or are—loved. It's a symbol of remembrance and comfort; sitting among those signs of emotion to talk to her mom felt right. Another way to remember the woman who still continues to shape her life.

She says nothing beyond the first hi mom choosing to instead bask in the silence. She can relax enough to enjoy it, since she can still feel Lucas' gesture of comfort. She figures if it starts to fade or change, then she'll know. She lets her gaze flitter aimlessly around her before it lands on a headstone not that far from her mom's. Emblazoned on the marble is a single name: Scott.

It's a fresh stone, newly placed, that gleams in the moonlight. One that was placed there way too soon, like another, faded, one positioned right in front of her. Sadness descends at the thought, at the fact that Lucas has to feel what she has. At the thought that she's been so wrapped up in her disconnection, she hasn't really been supporting Lucas through his loss. When he'd been there for one of hers and so very compassionate about the other.

Peyton smiles a soft goodbye to her mom and walks over to Keith. Studying the words engraved in the headstone, she lightly traces the dates with a fingertip that can't touch, but only hover. In a way, if it weren't for Keith, a marker for her would have that same last date.

"Hi, Keith." She murmurs lightly, lowering to kneel on the ground. "I'm sorry I missed the funeral. Actually, I'm sorry I'll never have the chance to really get to know you. Luke's told me a lot about you...all good things, so don't worry. You did a really great job with him, you know? He really loves you and I know that he honestly looked up to you, seeing in you the kind of man he wants to be. And he's becoming that man, he truly is, even though I'm not sure he sees that yet."

She falls silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts before continuing, "I guess I just wanted you to know that. You helped raise a good guy, one who tries so hard to be the best person he can. The kind of person who'd run back into a terrifying situation when the smart thing would've been to run away, simply because he wanted to help. Then you did the same thing. I think that says a lot." A wry but grateful smile pulls at her lips, "I'm here because of that, so...thanks."

Climbing to her feet, Peyton once again studies the words etched underneath his name. She thinks, in the list of descriptors, they left off some relevant ones. Like saying he was an amazingly supportive friend for Karen, or a great uncle to Lucas; or even Lucas' father figure, or Karen's great love. It's hard to capture what a person means to someone with only a few simple words, but she finds it sad that whoever ordered this didn't even try to capture what Keith meant to Lucas. Instead, there's only a remark about being a son and a brother. Relationships Lucas had told her in the past weren't very strong for Keith or as important to him, as he chose to foster a sense of family elsewhere, with two people he loved. The two people whose remembrance isn't written in stone.

Peyton can't exactly explain why that should bother her, but it does. At least with her mom's, it describes a beloved wife and mother, capturing a small element of the woman, but lending comfort to her daughter at every visit. Somehow, it makes her feel loved, like being a mom was a role important to Anna. It also suggests Anna leaving behind people who honestly love her, and cherish what she was to them. What she still is, really.

But maybe it doesn't really matter in the long run. As long as there are people who still remember, who still miss their loved ones, then what's on the headstone isn't so important. Her mom is her mom because that's how Peyton still sees her. Keith is Lucas' dad because that's how Lucas sees him. Everyone else's opinion just don't matter.

Smiling to herself, Peyton pretends to run her hand—the one being held by Lucas—over Keith's headstone, since she can't physically do it. Neither can Lucas, being stuck in her hospital room at the moment. This way, they both kind of can. "He loves you. I love him."

She freezes, utterly shocked at the words that just left her mouth. Mind buzzing, she kind of scurries back to her mom, needing that connection. Needing advice she'll never really get.

Plopping down in front of her mom's headstone, she starts rambling, "Oh god, mom. You know how—well, you say stuff that you probably shouldn't? I did that. In the library. I told my best friend's boyfriend that I loved him. And then I kissed him." She huffs out a breath of air, hands flying around with her words. "I thought I was gonna die, and he took care of me. It was just in case I did die, you know? That's all it was. That's all."

She takes it as a refutation when the breeze picks up for a second, sending the leaves clattering against each other and creating a blast of sound. Almost like a scolding. One that doesn't have the intended effect, as Peyton settles at the whimsical thought. Sighing, she lets her mind go back to the moment in the library, where she'd leaned against one of her closest friends. If it had been anyone in her circle of classmates, she probably would have said the same thing. She would have wanted her friends to know that she loves and appreciates them.

Honesty compels her to admit that she wouldn't have kissed any of them. And the I love you wouldn't have held the same meaning as it did for Lucas.

"I guess you can still tell when I'm lying, huh Mom?" A mischievous grin fades as quickly as it bloomed. "I guess a part of me has always loved him, since the beginning. But I couldn't, you know? For a lot of reasons, but mainly because I didn't want to hurt all of us again. Me, Brooke... Then Luke and I were barely friends, and there was Jake...it was just easier to only think of him as a friend."

She dances her fingers across the back of the hand Lucas is 'holding,' for the first time feeling guilty for having that sensation. He's still Brooke's boyfriend. He's still just a "great friend" of hers and nothing more. He still probably thinks the library wasn't as much as it was.

But it does mean more than that. It's also something she can't mean. She won't do that to her best friend again, especially since Lucas and Brooke really love each other. She doesn't want to lose them both, like she had for a period of time last year...she doesn't want to be alone.

Glancing around, making sure no one's nearby—not that they could hear or see her there—she braces herself, half expecting something to happen at her confession, "I'm in love with Lucas."

This is probably the last time she'll says it out loud, since there's no one to condemn her for feeling that way. She's in limbo, stuck somewhere between living life and moving beyond it. She can say whatever she needs to because no one can hear it.

"I have to bury it. It's not like I can do anything about it anyway." She tells her mom, voice wavering. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary one. As long as he and Brooke are happy, she can be okay. And maybe—she's hoping—those feeling will go away, or turn out to be more platonic than they seem at the moment. "Who knows, right?" Peyton murmurs, a little hopeful, but a lot skeptical.

She lapses into silence again, savoring the way she feels right now. Lighter for being honest and peaceful for accepting what is. And what isn't.

It's the loss of sensation around her hand that has her straightening in alarm. A sharp pinch to her toe sends her panicked thoughts to 'her' as she's once again in her hospital room, disconcerted at the abrupt change in scenery. Focusing her gaze, it lands on the laughing blue eyes of the boy she was just thinking about, playfully holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

"I didn't do it." He exclaims on a chuckle.

"God, Lucas!" She presses her hands to her chest, "You scared me! I thought something happened!" She has the urge to hit him, but she can't. That sucks.

"Sorry." He smiles boyishly, patting 'her' foot, before turning serious. "I was getting worried about you."

Eyes flying to her unconscious self, she takes a step forward and frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He assures her quickly, gesturing to the monitors that are tracking her vital signs, "Not a blip at all."

"Ookaaay." She exhales, shaking off the panic and easing down into one of the chairs.

Lucas takes the other chair, tilting his head at her with a half shrug. "You were gone for longer than I expected. Almost twenty minutes. I wasn't sure how—or even if—I could bring you back."

She quirks her eyebrow, "So you pinch me?"

"Yep. Popped into my head. My mom used to do that when I was younger and sleeping too deeply. Apparently, it was the only sure fire way to wake me up."

She nods softly, charmed by the mental picture of a younger Karen trying to wake a heavily sleeping boy, and resorting to tweaking his toes. It's not a vital secret or anything, but it's another thing she can relish knowing about this boy she loves, before she has to box the feelings up and face reality. A reality in which she hopefully wakes from her coma soon.

Seeing him now, having his blue eyes watching her, fighting the urge to smooth down his disheveled hair, brings the weight of her earlier acknowledgement crashing down on her. It's disheartening and painful to know she loves him when he'll never feel the same way. And when she does come out of her coma, when life resumes as it must, she'll have to sit back and watch the boy she loves with the girl he loves. Is it any wonder a part of her isn't looking forward to that?

Peyton's shoulders go back, and her chin rises as she internally bolsters her defenses. It isn't like she hasn't done it before, the first time Brooke dated Lucas.

She blinks owlishly at the hand that waves in front of her face and the accompanying question, "Peyton? You still here? Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere." She frowns, "I think."

"What?"

Peyton shifts in her chair to face him, noting the puzzled look on his face. She responds with one of her own. "Did I leave, or something?"

"Oh. No. You just dazed out for a minute. What's on your mind?"

She shrugs. Lucas would be the absolute last person she'd confess to regarding this. Needing a change in subject, she prompts, "Hey, so what did you wanna talk to me about when you first came?"

He hesitates, looking like he's debating not letting the matter drop, but yields to the shift of topic. "Not much really. Just thought we could talk about how we can get you connected again." A smirk graces his features, "You know, go over the list of 'movie tricks' you still have to try?"

"Shut up!" Pouting a little, she ducks her head in consternation and waits. It only takes seconds, really.

"I'm sorry. I was only teasing." She can hear the apology in his voice, which she finds sweet, but she doesn't bother to hide the giggle that escapes when she raises her eyes to meet his. He squints at her, "Wait—''

"Sucker!" Peyton chuckles, rolling her eyes. "Dude, I'm not that sensitive!"

He rolls his eyes too, waving away her words with a careless movement of his hand. "Anyway, I didn't get any new ideas today. You?"

"Nope. I mostly spent the day listening to people talk to a sleeping person. Tried to work my mojo, but no luck. Oh! Actually, Nate almost noticed, but not really."

"How did he almost notice?"

"I think he thought he was just imagining things, 'cause he kept brushing it off or something. But he actually seemed to look in my direction a few times."

"Wow," Lucas states in a tone of disbelief. "I wonder why him?"

Peyton shrugs. "I figured, you see me, he's your brother... Plus, I did date him for a long time, so he'd know me, you know?"

"But wouldn't Brooke know you?" He counters, causing Peyton to sigh loudly in frustration. "Or your dad?" That's exactly what she had thought, too.

"I don't know, okay?" Agitation clear, she shoots to her feet, but doesn't really go anywhere. She just needs to stand, or move a little, aiming to contain the mix of feelings.

Today had been one looong day, with various emotions batting at her, rarely giving her a chance to come to terms with one before another one flew her way. She still blames Lucas for that. Just a little.

"You know," she says consideringly, "A lot of this is your fault."

He stares at her incredulously, "My fa—how?"

Scowling, she throws her arm up, "The sudden rush of people parading through my room? Don't try to deny that had a lot to do with you. Haley even said something about it to me, not to mention, Brooke!"

"You mean the people who love you coming to visit you?" He argues, narrowing his eyes at her scoff.

"Yeah, the people who didn't bother until you told them to."

"Peyt—"

"AND," she interrupts heatedly, "You didn't bother to come until my dad showed up at your house!"

He apparently wasn't going to fight back. "I told you why. I'm pretty sure Brooke told you why. It hasn't been easy for any of us."

She deflates with those words, dropping back into her chair and leaning her head back. "Yeah. I get that. It doesn't make it hurt any less."

Silence reigns for a few moments, Peyton feeling drained from everything that happened. It was up, down, up, down, wearing on her mentally and emotionally. There didn't seem to be any answers, at least not easy or straightforward ones. Those that did present themselves only led to more questions until Peyton was a convoluted mass of contradictions.

"I'm just tired, Luke." A whispered sigh that unintentionally echoes words spoken that day in the library.

She stares at the ceiling, letting her thoughts swirl around, not bothering to focus on any one thing at the moment, since her emotions are on overload. It's easier to not think about any of it.

"Peyton, you do want to come back, don't you?"

The dejected tone and the slight wobble to the words disarms her; startling enough to have her blurting out an answer without even thinking about it. "I don't really know right now."

Sometimes, truths reveal themselves when you stop thinking. And they're not always easy to hear.

A/N: For those that wanted NP interaction...sorry! I tried (I wanted it too!), but it just wouldn't flow for me. I didn't like it, so I started over and got this! Tell me what you think!